By the 19th day, I'd figured out one true thing; you need to start early, if you want to set your own schedule on the Colorado Trail. 4AM worked out well for me. I slept well enough, going to bed at 8PM the night before. I was riding by 5:30, with a big day ahead of me. This day I realized that the headlamp I'd gotten in Buena Vista was bright enough for pre-dawn riding in its brightest setting, and that I didn't need the little NiteRider light I'd brought. This was just one of many things I wish I'd figured out before I left. Dawn broke as a I was climbing the long, forested bluff that begins segment 27. I passed Leo, one of the hiker kids I'd met the day before, filtering. He was watching the dawn. I believe I pedaled most of the first 11 miles of this climb, which was surprising. I really do believe my body was finally adapting / getting fit enough for the CT, right as I was finishing it. What if I'd actually trained for this thing? This segment has little water, per the Databook. At one point I saw a family camp, a pickup with bikes on it, an off-road travel trailer and a guy standing by the pickup. We greeted each other. I asked if he had any water I could have, and he said yes. The travel trailer had a tank with a spigot. I filled my pack, a bottle, and thanked him. We chatted, I think his name was Chris. I expressed gratitude. Trail magic is real, and special. I later crossed little streams; 27 has water, if it's a monsoon year. I could have definitely filtered water and had enough. Of course there was hike-a-bike, and I hit it somewhere around mile 12 or 13. It would become more prevalent after that. One thing I'd noticed is that the recreational riders and runners were more frequent, beginning with 25. There were a lot on 27, this Sunday. They were leapfrogging with me. My style had become 'ever forward,' minimal breaks. They'd pass me, then stop to regroup, pass me, then stop to eat, pass me, then stop to talk. Every time they passed me, I had to shove my heavy bike up slope, off trail, panting from lack of air. I got very grumpy about it. Let me say this to you; if you need to pass a bikepacker, do the hard part, either wait to pass, or pass them in the rough, without them having to do work for you to pass. Black words were in the thought bubble above my head. I was pacing with this father / son on unloaded bikes as we started going over the giant rock pile scrambles of Indian Ridge. I was looking at clouds, time (10AM, 11AM) and thinking about memorized mile markers - mile 18.5, Reach high point of Indian Trail Ridge. After the high point, we were on some sometimes muddy red singletrack, before reaching the intersection with the jeep road. I thought back to the coincidence of being recognized here, in 2015. A cooler bag with a trail magic sign had me thinking I might find a cold Coke, but it was a joke on me; empty and half-empty liquor bottles. No thank you. A final push got me to the top of the Kennebec Pass descent, segment 28. In 2015 I took a fantastic picture here. I was thinking I'd do the same, this time, except there were these guys walking their bikes downhill in new mtb shoes on that slope, when I was ready to be an eagle in flight. I did not take pictures, I politely passed them and got busy getting down that hill as quickly and as pleasurably as I could. The Kennebec Pass descent is wild, rocky, rooty and fun, and on this day, wet, showing recent rain. Both my front and rear Ortlieb bags were buzzing my tires, yet another thing I should have practiced and resolved before this trip. Oh well, I'd happily sacrifice them to be done. Reaching the bottom of the descent, I paused at a creek crossing, and as I was shooting a video, I felt the first rain drops. Those rain drops turned into a thunderstorm, with lightning flashing on the hills in the direction of my travel. After the bridge over Junction Creek I began the final 1000' hike-a-bike, into the thunderstorm. I wasn't worried about lightning - I was in the trees - but I was wet to the bone, my bike was muddy and it started making Bad Noises, like I'd broken something. I could have put out my shelter, gotten in it, saved my bike from excessive wear and potentially spent another night on the trail, but I was determined that this would be my last day, that I'd be in Durango this evening. Nothing was going to stop me. After a long hike-a-bike, I finally reached a section where I could pedal uphill, then the top. It's a wider spot in the trail, there's a log to rest on, and in the distance you can make out Durango. I got to work on the descent. It's a very rocky descent, and with the rain; full of red puddles. You have to pay attention to the rocks, pick your lines. It's not all down, there are some ups, and when you think you're done, it keeps going. There are two trailhead signs, which is confusing, as you think you're done, but have mile(s) yet to go. At one point I came up on two people with packs and ponchos, hiking the same direction. I called out, asked "Going through?" I think they said they were hiking from Silverton, a man and a woman, younger. We chatted. I told them about how gummy bears had helped me get through, and offered them the last of my bag. They gladly accepted. Trail magic is real, and special, and feels good whether you give or receive it. I finally arrived at the final trailhead sign, the real one. Just as I was arriving I saw a hiker arriving. I asked him to take my picture and he, mine. His partner took mine. His trail name was High Speed Chuck, and we'd both arrived from Denver, on foot and on bike, at the exact same time. What a feeling. I can't describe it.
I was a bit of a zombie at this point, 40 some miles and 5000' climbing in. It was raining, I was cold and wet and dirty and tired and, if my body would recognize it, hungry. I'd last eaten a meal at 4:30AM. I tried using my phone to contact Liza or Matt, but my phone and my gloves were so wet that I couldn't interact with it very well. I managed to put their street address into google maps, and followed the directions to their house. I think I knocked on their door around 4:30PM. I gave Matt a muddy hug, took a shower, put on some clean, dry clothes from my duffle bag and he took me downtown for a burrito and some beers. My dream of a burrito and coke would have to wait, it was still raining and I was too cold, and it was too late for that. Just like every time I returned to society, solo on this trip, I was dumbstruck. No words to answer questions, no idea of what I wanted short of the very basics; stop, food, warm, sleep, nice, people.
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